


Avec les Cochons

by Cranberrytaboo



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Guns, Minor Character Death, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, a lot of references to the feeling and taste of blood, if I decide to make this a series rather than a one shot i'll change the category relationships etc, this isnt an explicitly romantic fic but id be lying if i said it was devoid of devotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranberrytaboo/pseuds/Cranberrytaboo
Summary: Harry and Kim have their showdown with The Pigs, and Kim has an experience of his own.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Avec les Cochons

It was well past sundown, and the stars were beginning to shimmer faintly past the thick haze of clouds that threatened to swallow the whole sky. A cold breeze whipped across the surface of the ocean, the reeds by the shore shifting and rattling, whispering as they brushed against one another. The overwhelming odor of decaying seaweed was barely relieved by the scent of salt air on the wind. The worn-down planks of the boardwalk groaned and protested under the weight of three bodies.

And an elderly woman with wild eyes and a wilder tongue stood before them, pointing a gun at them. His gun. At him.

Lt. Kitsuragi drew his own handgun with the practiced calm of a veteran, his tone carefully toeing the line between authoritative and placating, but not once letting his eyes wander from the woman before them. It hurt to look—the fact that she had somehow managed to rig the lights of a police vehicle to her back and make them function wasn’t making the situation better. Worse still was how it glared against the thick lenses of his glasses, further obscuring his already terrible eyesight. He could think of few scenarios he’d like to be involved in less.

Quietly, imperceptibly, a shuddering sigh escaped him as he steadied his arms. He didn’t dare to even glance at his partner, who had seemingly taken the task of de-escalation into his own hands.

_Well, shit._

Harrier du Bois, in the short time that the lieutenant had known him, did not have a reputation for subtlety. His style was more akin to tectonic plates shifting under an active volcano, pushing and pushing until an eruption occurred, then picking up the pieces. Had it nearly gotten the shit beaten out of them? Absolutely, more than once, but it had been effective, up until this point. Now, a gun was involved, and things got more complicated.

Blessedly, Harry had started with an uncharacteristically calm approach, attempting to settle the woman, who called herself The Pigs. _Funny, that._ Kim felt a tremble of relief that Harry hadn’t immediately jumped to his usual insanity.

Unfortunately, The Pigs didn’t respond well to the attempts at soothing her, and only grew increasingly agitated, screaming about needing backup and police brutality being justified, just this once. _If she wasn’t completely out of her mind, I’d say she was setting us up for a social commentary._ Kim would have found it astute if he weren’t absolutely terrified.

Then, Harry started doing what he did best, which was throw any and all expectations of normalcy out the window. Rather, he began playing along with The Pigs, feeding into her delusion and trying to convince her that they were there because she was found guilty of misconduct. Trying to convince her to turn in her gun and badge. Once again, impressive, but Kim couldn’t focus on that.

All he could watch was her shaking hand fumbling with the hammer of the gun in her hands. The gun that had belonged to Harry. The gun that had made its way to Evrart, and—

_This is a setup!_

Of course, what else could it be? Evrart had told them everything about the rebellion, his hand in the protests, how he was manipulating the workers into thinking he was on their side – Kim’s mind was racing a million miles a minute. Since they had (ostensibly) collected the signatures that Evrart wanted, he didn’t need two cops running around for him anymore. They had exhausted their usefulness, and now—

And now they were at gunpoint, and The Pigs was getting more upset by the moment.

Kim grit his teeth. What would it say about him if he were to shoot at the old woman holding them hostage here? With his eyesight, he wasn’t confident that he could shoot to maim, despite intensive training proving that for the most part, he could do just that. But what about the small percentage of him that couldn’t?

On the other hand, what would it say about him if he decided not to shoot? If he gave her the chance to fire first, and she took it? If she killed him—or worse, killed the yefreitor? _Either way it would be a disgrace._ Another shaky breath. His finger slid slightly along the curve of the trigger, depressing it. However, he’d waited too long, and The Pigs had already made her move.

_Click._

**Bang.**

**_The sound of gunfire was impossibly loud, deafening. Louder still was the sound of someone’s breath being knocked out of them. The loudest was the subtle splattering noise as a visceral warmth coated the left side of the lieutenant’s face. He couldn’t breathe. Eyes wide and wild, he slowly turned his head, dreading what would meet his gaze…_ **

But the bang never happened. Instead, sweet silence filled the air, even the sound of The Pigs’ sirens petering out as she looked at the gun in her hands. It was empty. They’d sold her the weapon, but not the bullets.

Harry approached her and retrieved his gun without trouble. “That fucker—Evrart!” It seemed that Harry was entertaining the same thoughts that Kim had been. “He’s going to answer for this, you mark my words… Shit.” He ran a hand through his unkempt mullet. “Kim, what are we gonna do with the old lady?”

Kim’s head snapped to look at his partner, almost too quickly. After a short while, they agreed to let the Hardie Boys know about The Pigs. Hopefully, they would take care of her. The poor thing needed all the help she could get. However, that meant Harry would follow Kim back to the Whirling-in-Rags, to speak to Titus in person.

Kim was grateful that Harry was too hyped up on adrenaline and indignation to notice that he was trembling the whole way back.

Back at the hostel, Titus sucked in air through his teeth before nodding. “The Pigs? Yeah, we know her. She took care of us back when most of us were still in our training britches.” He looked over at the other Boys, who all made some motion of affirmation or sympathy.

“Poor Auntie,” Glen piped up. “She’s had it rough from the start.”

Harry nodded empathetically. “It’ll be a big help if you guys deal with her.”

After some light-hearted ribbing, Titus agreed.

“No sense in you walking all the way back out to the coast just to walk back here, huh?”

Kim blinked and looked to Harry. He’d only been half paying attention. It was uncharacteristic of him, and Harry knew it, but was graciously too exhausted to press further, at least for the night. Kim adjusted his glasses on his nose and gave a small, reassuring nod. “I’ll be in front of your shack in the morning, as usual. Good night, Detective.”

Yet, Kim couldn’t help but watch from the doorway as Harry’s figure disappeared, growing smaller before fading completely into the surrounding blackness of night. He sighed again before retiring to his own room, closing the door behind himself and listening to the mechanical click of the magnetic lock.

_Routine. Focus on routine._ Yes, that was for the best. Kim carried himself to the washroom, pausing to glance at the door that had been all but barreled down on the other side. He would see about setting that upright later—keeping it open left a way in, a vulnerability. He looked at himself in the mirror.

**_Blood. Red, hot, burning even, coursing down the rivulets of forming wrinkles across his cheek. Threatening to sink into the pores. Further down, it caught on the fine hairs of his neck, stained the RCM blazer, through to what was once a clean white shirt, now blossoming in scarlet._ **

Kim reached for the faucet like a man on fire, nearly burying his face into the basin of the sink as he scrubbed furiously at his skin. The water was cold, grounding. Good. He could do this. He lifted his head to brush his teeth.

**_The taste was metallic, salty, like putting coins in your mouth after holding them in your fist. Just from the few droplets that dribbled past his lips, it was overwhelming._ **

And promptly eschewed in favor of spearmint as the lieutenant brushed so hard he nearly made his own gums bleed. His clothes were off his back in record time as he threw himself into the shower, letting cold water pound almost angrily against his skin. _That’s not what happened. Not this time._

**_The world around him had become a blur, as if someone had knocked the glasses from his face. How much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? Seconds? He dropped to his knees, desperate. Trying to locate the source of the bleeding, to staunch it, to hold his partner’s wound closed even as he could feel the man’s heartbeat ebbing beneath his fingertips…_ **

Kim slammed his hand against the wall of the shower.

**_Was his body on fire, or was he frozen cold? It felt like both, it felt like agony, it felt like desperation as Eyes grew colder and colder beneath him. His ears were still ringing. The gunfire had been so loud… When would the ringing go away? What was that sound he could barely hear over it?_ **

_It was you then, and it’s you now._ Kim lifted a hand to his face, the scorching cold water of the shower overhead giving way to the white-hot pouring from his own eyes. _It could have happened again. It almost happened again_. He was so angry with himself that he could barely move. He wasn’t strong enough to do that, not again. He couldn’t go through that again.

With a final, shuddering breath, Kim composed himself, forcing the tears, the shaking, the whimpering to stop. He would be fine. He was a _professional_.

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time posting anything about DE on AO3, but I can't help be inspired by SO many incredible fics here. Sorry if this idea seems a bit trite, I'm sure it's been done to death, but there's just something so viscerally satisfying about depicting a stoic man completely falling to pieces.


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